


Rendezvous

by Balder12



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Brief choking, F/F, Mentions of Sam/Ruby - Freeform, Non-Graphic Violence, Rivalry, Threats, old lovers reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5568121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balder12/pseuds/Balder12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg has a run-in with Ruby while tracking Anna Milton.  Set around 4.09.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enjoyyourcocoa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Enjoyyourcocoa).



> Written for [SPN J2 Xmas](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/) for the prompt "They meet and she has an epiphany," and the likes "murderers in love," and "conversation fic." Many thanks to my beta, [Prodigal-anon](http://prodigal-anon.tumblr.com/).

The blood of Anna Milton’s parents tasted like pennies and salt in Meg’s mouth. It’s was a poor consolation for losing her quarry. Where could that sweet little slip of angel radio have run off to? There was no hint of her anywhere, and no whiff of the foul stink of ozone that followed angelic grace.  
  
The cold, crisp breeze of a Midwestern fall blew across Meg’s face as she stalked down the sidewalk. The mid-morning light was golden on her borrowed skin, and the leaves over her head were the deep red of raw liver. Children’s laughter wafted past her from the elementary school across the street, and she winced in pain. It was times like these she regretted getting her vessel killed so soon after she’d taken it–when the girl had been alive her incessant, silent screaming had blocked out the more unpleasant aspects of the human world. Meg hated being alone with her thoughts.  
  
The first time the woman appeared she was just a flicker at the edge of Meg’s vision, a figure flitting among the trees in the small suburban park that stretched out beside her. Meg didn’t break her pace, but she watched out of the corner of her eye for the figure to reappear among the blue shadows of the maple trees.  
  
The second time the woman lingered just long enough for Meg to see the gleaming darkness of black hair and a white flash of arm. Not human, Meg was sure of that much. No hunter was that fast. Angel come to smite her? Demon come to check up on her progress? Anything was possible.  
  
The third time the woman turned toward her for an instant, and Meg saw her true face: Ruby. After all these years. Their eyes locked for an instant, and then Ruby turned away, heading deeper into the trees. Her back remained pointedly visible to Meg’s gaze.  
  
It could be a trap. Meg had heard rumors about what Ruby had been up to in the years since they’d last met. Ruby could be bait, a Judas goat designed to lead her into the arms of some self-righteous would-be demon slayer. Meg followed her anyway. She told herself it was because she liked killing hunters.  
  
Ruby didn’t turn around until they were well out of sight of the road, even though Meg let her feet crunch pointedly through the dead leaves. Ruby came to a stop at one particular tree, as if were different from all the others, and leaned against it. Her dark eyes lighted on Meg with casual interest, as if she’d just noticed she’d been followed. Right.  
  
Ruby had picked up a new body somewhere along the way. It was petite and dark, and it suited her well. Demons ran through vessels until they found one that fit just right—one that looked like they had when they were alive, or looked like they wished they’d looked, or looked like who they wanted other people to think they’d been. This one seemed like a keeper for Ruby; the lines of it clung along her true form like a well-tailored suit, body and spirit both slumping with the same studied indifference.  
  
“I liked you better as a blonde,” Meg said.  
  
Ruby smirked, her eyes downcast to study her perfect nails. “He likes me better as a brunette.”  
  
Well, that was blunt. Meg had rather expected some attempt at denial, or at least coyness. This amounted to waving a big red flag stamped with “Treason.” Demons killed each other for pettier betrayals than sleeping with a hunter every day.  
  
Meg leaned in, a mockery of intimacy, until her face was only inches from Ruby’s. Ruby’s vessel smelled like sulfur and strawberry shampoo. “So, it’s true, then? You’ve taken up with Sam Winchester?”  
  
Ruby lifted one shoulder noncommittally, but her gaze was steady. “I have my reasons.”  
  
“Do you, now?” Meg rested her palms against the bark on either side of Ruby’s head, trapping her in place. “You’ve never been up in that belfry, have you? I have. Maybe I could give you a few pointers. That boy is kinky.”  
  
Ruby’s smile didn’t waver. “I seem to be doing just fine with him, thank you.”  
  
Meg drummed her fingers impatiently against the tree. This defection made no sense. Ruby had been the best little demon Meg had ever seen from the minute she walked into Alastair’s workshop, always earnestly devoted to her work and eager to please. She’d been an A+ student right up until the day she’d vanished, the Hermione Granger of Hell. Meg couldn’t imagine anyone less likely to side with the Winchesters for shits and giggles.  
  
“If that’s true, why come shaking that admittedly lovely ass in my direction?” Meg leaned in until their noses almost touched. “Strictly speaking, I should kill you on sight.”  
  
“Strictly speaking,” Ruby agreed affably. “But you haven’t.”  
  
“Yet.”  
  
Ruby brushed a lock of hair off Meg’s forehead, and then began gently twisting it into a curl around her index finger. “Who’s the redhead?”  
  
Of course. She was here for information. “I know a lot of redheads. Why? You got a hankering?”  
  
Ruby’s lips were a fraction of an inch from Meg’s. “The one you were sent to find,” she whispered. Meg felt the words as much as heard them. She almost closed the gap between them, her memory bright with the happy times they’d shared, the long-lost days of hellfire and baby blood. But she wasn’t so easily manipulated. She pulled back and grabbed Ruby by the throat.  
  
“So you can tell the Winchesters? Why? For what? And don’t try to tell me you love him. You don’t have a heart of gold. I know, I’ve seen it.”  
  
“So you have. That was a fun night.” Ruby’s voice was ragged from the lack of air, but still steady and amused. Un-fucking-flappable, Meg had to give her that. Meg released her hold on Ruby’s windpipe.  
  
“Is it Crowley?” Meg demanded. Everyone who was anyone knew that double-crossing crossroads demon had been talking shit about Lucifer, trying to raise an army of demons dumb enough to fight a war he’d never lead himself. “Did he talk you into this?”  
  
There was a flash of anger across Ruby’s face, the first genuine emotion she’d slipped enough to show. “Crowley’s a traitor. He can go fuck himself.” She meant it. Interesting. Meg considered that flash of emotion, rolled it around on her tongue and savored all the possibilities it contained. She saw Ruby recognize her mistake and wince.  
  
“ _You’re_ a traitor,” Meg said, not unkindly. It wasn’t an accusation this time, just a statement of fact that was rapidly becoming a question.  
  
Ruby met her eye, and her gaze was bright with zealotry. “I’m many things.” She looked almost prim. Ruby was the smoothest double agent Meg had ever seen. The Hermione Granger of Hell after all, and clever enough to deceive even Meg herself, at least for a little while.  
  
Meg leaned in toward Ruby again, but this time she didn’t mean it as a threat. “The redhead’s name is Anna Milton. She’s got angel radio playing full blast in her brain. Connect the dots yourself.”  
  
Ruby grinned and closed the gap between them, crushing her mouth against Meg’s. She bit down hard, and when she pulled away her lips were bright with blood. Just the way Meg liked to see them.  
  
Ruby’s sticky lips brushed Meg’s ear as she whispered, “Only be patient a little longer. We’ll bathe in the grace of slaughtered angels.”  
  
Ruby ducked under Meg’s encircling arm, and Meg let her. She stopped a half dozen feet away, stock still in the light of the autumn afternoon, bloody and terrible and perfect. “I’ll see you soon.”  
  
Meg grinned. “You better.”  
  
Ruby turned away and disappeared into a convenient fold in reality. Meg walked back toward the street, still smiling to herself. The children’s laughter bothered her less this time. She had faith in Ruby: it’d be silenced soon enough.  



End file.
